


15x11 coda: stay a little longer

by contemplativepancakes



Series: Season 15 codas [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x11 coda, Coda, Comfort, Episode: s15e11 The Gamblers, M/M, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22488484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contemplativepancakes/pseuds/contemplativepancakes
Summary: Dean is lingering outside of Cas's room. He’s always been a firm believer in not rushing good things, and this, this thing with Cas, it's one of the best things.He doesn't think anyone can reasonably call it rushing at this point, though. He knocks on the door.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Season 15 codas [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539418
Comments: 11
Kudos: 185





	15x11 coda: stay a little longer

Dean’s in a good mood as he swings the bunker door open. Hell, an ecstatic mood, even, to have this whole cursed with bad luck business cleared up. Maybe he’s not having any luck with his scratch offs, but Baby purred the whole drive back, none of his cassettes skipped, Sam didn’t shoot him any more bitch faces than completely necessary, and his acid reflux has cleared up. He’s especially thankful for that last one, because he saw a tab open on Sam’s phone about low acid diets; the first thing excluded being beer. Dean shudders at the thought. He thinks just maybe he might be lucky enough to finally have a certain conversation that’s a few weeks overdue. His face settles into a soft smile as the snide voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Sam snorts, _Weeks? Try years._

Dean’s always been a firm believer in not rushing good things, though, and this is one of the _best_ things.

As if Dean’s thoughts had summoned him, (and _fuck,_ Dean thinks in a panic, maybe they had) Cas emerges from the depths of the bunker right as Dean and Sam walk into the library. He’s wearing an odd expression as Dean greets him, and Dean narrows his eyes. “Everything okay?” Sam asks.

Cas hesitates for a second before stepping to the side, and Dean’s brain skips as- Jack steps out from the hallway.

Dean stands there in shock, his fist clenching and unclenching. He could forgive Cas for his mom dying, because it was never his fault, not really, but this? Jack burned his mom into a pile of ash. He’s slowly been getting used to it, living without his mom again, but seeing Jack brings the pain screaming back to life, lighting a fire in his stomach.

But then Jack mumbles, “Hello,” and Cas reassures, “It’s really him,” looking at Dean with pleading eyes, and Dean’s anger starts to fall away.

Sam walks up to Jack and folds him into a hug. It reminds him that he swept everything Sam did when he didn’t have a soul under a rug and shoved the rug into a closet to gather dust somewhere in the recesses of his mind, and Dean cracks. He steps forwards and puts his palm on Jack’s jaw, and he can’t stay mad at this, this, kid, staring at him in a mirror of the way Cas looks when he’s worried.

Dean flits his glance over at Cas. Cas returns the look with the beginnings of a tentative smile, and Dean wants to see more than a hopeful smile; he wants to see Cas’s teeth, his gums, because Cas is just so damn elated.

Dean pulls Jack in for a hug and looks over his shoulder to share a secret grin with Cas. For his troubles, Dean’s rewarded with a hint of gums. He doesn’t remember the last time Cas smiled like that, and the thought makes his chest ache. He pulls back to clap Jack on the shoulder. “Welcome home.”

Later, after there’s been beers all around, mostly everyone has floated off to their respective rooms, but Dean is lingering outside of Cas’s. There’s music with a thudding bass line playing, and Dean can’t help but crack a grin. Despite his best efforts, Cas’s taste of music has always been a little eclectic. Dean keeps the cassettes Cas somehow procures underneath the back seat, so Sam won’t make fun of him, but they get pulled out when Cas rides shotgun, or when Dean’s by himself. Sometimes it’s nice to play songs that have lighter memories, ones that aren’t entrenched in his Dad and everything Dean used to pretend to be. Well, sometimes he still does pretend, but he’s working on that. He steels himself and raps his knuckles on Cas’s door. The music shuts off abruptly. “Come in,” Cas says.

Dean lets himself in, shutting the door behind him. “Hey,” he says dumbly, his mouth going dry at the sight of Cas in flannel pajama pants and a white t shirt. “Are those- are those my pants?”

Cas looks down at himself. “I suppose they are. My slacks were feeling… scratchy.”

“Scratchy?” Dean echoes. Last time he checked, rough clothing didn’t bother angels of the lord.

Cas hesitates. “Dean, I have to tell you something.”

Dean furrows his brow in confusion. That’s what he was going to say.

“This has been on my mind for a while, but it never seemed like the right time to tell you. We were in the middle of fighting God, and then you were mad at me, and then we were in the middle of purgatory. But- don’t be mad, okay?”

Dean swears the floor is rumbling underneath him. “Cas, I told you I forgave you. I’m done being mad.”

“I just- Dean, I need you to be more careful. I- my powers are failing.”

“What?” Dean’s thrown off. This isn’t the turn he expected their conversation to take.

“You have to take better care of yourself, Dean,” Cas says again, his hand tugging at the sleeve of Dean’s shirt. “I might not be able to heal you the next time you get hurt.” Cas glances away, his eyes skittering to the floor. “I can barely heal a sprained ankle.”

Any declarations he had come in here intending to make melt away at the despairing look on Cas’s face. “Hey,” Dean whispers, using his fingers to tilt Cas’s chin up, “I’m still here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Cas takes a jerky step back. “ _God_ has a grudge against you. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Dean manages a weak smile at the reminder. “What kind of a story would it be if the hero died? You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Cas arches an eyebrow. “Chuck’s a writer. One looking for his story to take a twist. You think he’s above killing his protagonist?”

Dean thinks he’s read more stories where the love interest dies rather than the hero, but he doesn’t push the point. Not tonight.

“Well, I say this story’s going to have a happy ending. Team Free Will, right?”

“Right,” Cas says, sounding thoroughly unconvinced, “Happy.”

Dean clears his throat, anything to get them off of this depressing as fuck topic. “So, if you’re a real boy now, you need sleep.”

Cas scowls. “I’m not human. I still have my grace.”

“Yeah, okay. Get in the bed.”

“I don’t need sleep,” Cas insists.

“Maybe your grace will work better if you get some shuteye. You want to never find out because you were too damn stubborn?”

Cas squints at him, but obeys, pulling back the covers and crawling in. Dean’s feet propel him to the side of the bed, smoothing down the covers and yanking them up over Cas’s chest. “Hey. Um. I didn’t mean you’re only useful for your grace, okay? Just, you should look out for yourself more, too. I like having you around.”

The look Cas gives him makes Dean squirm uncomfortably. There’s a c-clamp around his heart, and it keeps ratcheting tighter every time Cas shoots an intense look his way. When Cas reaches out a hand, closes it around Dean’s wrist, and asks him to stay, it never even crosses Dean’s mind to say no.

He toes out of his boots and hesitates before he pushes down his jeans. He climbs into the empty space beside Cas, and Cas rolls over to face him. Cas looks adorable, unguarded, _vulnerable_ , like this, and Dean knows if he opens his mouth, everything will come spilling out. Cas doesn’t need that tonight. Not now, not with Jack back and Cas worried about how he’s going to protect his family. Dean does know one thing Cas needs, though.

He gropes blindly on the bed before he finds Cas’s hand. He threads their fingers together and rests their joined hands over Cas’s heart. Dean can feel it thudding, and he smooths his thumb over Cas’s sternum. “Stay with me,” he whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song by the Brothers Osborne
> 
> let me know what you thought!  
> thanks for reading and feel free to find me on [tumblr](https://contemplativepancakes.tumblr.com/) <3


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